


your sorry little heart

by tellmewhatyousee



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Doctor Trafalgar D. Water Law, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hospitals, One Piece Bingo, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Ideation, discussion of suicide, everything is vague and the fic is more focused on conversation, no graphic descriptions/depictions of suicide or self harm, referenced self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27614407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellmewhatyousee/pseuds/tellmewhatyousee
Summary: After a suicide attempt proves unsuccessful, the surgeon who saved Ace's life stops by for a chat.
Relationships: Portgas D. Ace & Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: One Piece Bingo 2020/2021, tellmewhatyousee's Personal Faves





	your sorry little heart

**Author's Note:**

> listen i was not expecting to get "self harm" as a prompt but turns out it worked with an idea i already had tucked away. this fic is entirely inspired by [congratulations, you survived your suicide](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yic_aU1cmQ4) by sycamore smith. the song may also be triggering to some so please proceed with caution.
> 
> as i said in the tags, there's nothing graphic in this fic. i didn't see the point in specifying his methods or anything like that. but it does get in-depth with suicidal ideation and ace's feelings about what he did.
> 
> stay safe & take care of yourselves <3

Tucked away in a locked room, carefully guarded, a young man named Ace slept the night away. A near-death experience had landed him in the hospital less than a day before, and clear signs of intentional damage warranted a transfer to the psychiatric ward. For what little time he’d spent awake, Ace wouldn’t cooperate. He wouldn’t speak to anyone, and his emergency contacts were unresponsive. All the nurses could do was keep an eye on him until something changed.

When morning came, the surgeon who had performed his life-saving procedure walked into the room. It was rare for surgeons to enter the psych ward, and even rarer for Dr. Trafalgar to engage with his patients more than strictly necessary. Still, he was there, greeting the security guard with a nod.

“I’d like a moment to speak with him, if you don’t mind.”

The sound of an unfamiliar voice made Ace jump, his head whipping around to face the door. He looked sickly, his skin ghostly pale, his eyelids red and swollen. Despite how much he’d been sleeping, he looked like he hadn’t seen any rest in days. He didn’t say a word— he just watched the security guard leave the room before the surgeon pulled up a chair beside the bed.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.”

Ace looked away. It seemed he wasn’t interested in making conversation.

Law leaned back in his chair. The longer he looked at Ace, the worst his appearance seemed. Contrasting with the pallor of his face, his wrists were an angry red from where he’d struggled against the padded restraints that tethered him to the bed. “You’re not happy to be here, are you?” Law asked.

Ace turned back to Law. He followed the surgeon's gaze to the restraints, and promptly hid his hands underneath his blanket.

“I was around your age when I tried to kill myself,” Law said. He knew Ace’s answer. He wasn’t going to wait for a response. “I found myself in this same ward with a security guard babysitting me, just like you. It sucks, doesn’t it?”

Ace’s eye twitched. He flexed his fingers under the blanket. And after a moment, he nodded.

“This isn’t even the worst of it, you know,” Law continued. “What sucks even more is moving on. Going home. Facing your friends and family. The near-death experience, the painful recovery from surgery, that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel _better?”_ Ace snapped— he hated how his voice cracked when he spoke.

Law gave a half-hearted shrug. He hadn’t been expecting a response so early on in the conversation, but he wasn’t complaining. “Not particularly,” he replied. “I don’t think there’s a lot that _can_ make you feel better right now.”

“What the hell are you trying to accomplish, then?” Ace asked. Though there were no cracks in his voice this time, the shakiness of the question betrayed him. “I told them I don’t wanna talk to a shrink.”

Law decided not to inform Ace that he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. That was for the other staff to deal with. Still, he had to correct him. “I’m not a shrink. I’m a surgeon.”

Ace furrowed his brow. That didn’t sound right to him. “Then... what are you doing here?” he asked.

It was a reasonable question, Law thought. But he wasn’t sure he knew the answer himself. “Sometimes, it’s nice to know that someone understands what you’re going through.”

“How are you so sure about that?” Ace asked. “You don’t know why I did it. For all you know, our situations are completely different.”

“Your _situation_ doesn’t matter,” Law retorted, though he calmed down just as quickly as he’d snapped. “What matters is that whatever the hell you did to yourself, you expected to die from it. You tried and failed to kill yourself. The specifics of why your life is fucked up don’t matter— that’s a lot to process no matter what your _situation_ is. And it’s not easy to understand feelings like that unless you’ve felt them yourself.”

Ace went quiet. Briefly, Law wondered if he’d been too harsh.

“Why did you do it?”

As much as Law had been dreading that question, he didn’t back down. He stared right back at Ace when he answered. “I was overwhelmed,” he said. “I was in a situation that I felt I had no control over, and I didn’t think I would make it out alive. So I tried to cut my time short.”

Ace broke their eye contact in favor of looking down at the floor. “How did you… get out of it, then?” he asked.

Law crossed his arms. “Hard work and a hell of a lot of courage,” he said. He wasn’t about to go off about his own sob story. This wasn’t about him; it was about the kid sitting in the hospital bed. “Now, what made _you_ think this was a good idea?”

Minutes passed. Ace’s gaze was drifting, his eyes glazing over. Law didn’t regret the question; he knew it had to be asked eventually. He didn’t think he would get an answer out of Ace until he heard a soft, incomprehensible mumble.

“...What was that?”

Ace’s eyes met Law’s. He looked awfully disoriented, but he managed to repeat himself more clearly. “I just think the world would be better off if I was never born.”

Law hummed. That was definitely among the answers he’d been expecting— pretty standard, really, but difficult to counter. “Do you think any single person can have that much impact on the world?” he asked.

Ace’s gaze drifted off towards the wall, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Is that... a hypothetical question?”

“No. Tell me.”

Ace pulled a hand out from under the blanket to run his fingers through his hair; he let out a frustrated huff when the restraints cut the movement short. “I… I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I think… if someone hurts people, the world is better off without them.”

Law nodded— he didn’t necessarily agree with Ace, but he wanted him to feel heard. “And you think you deserve to die because you’ve hurt people?” he asked.

Ace’s shoulders twitched in an indistinct shrug. “It’s… complicated.”

“It always is, isn’t it?” Law mused. He didn’t have the slightest idea what Ace was referring to. They didn’t know anything about each other. During most of the time they’d spent together, Ace had been unconscious on an operating table. For all he knew, Ace was a mass murderer— though, he strongly doubted it. “I think… for whatever crimes you think you’ve committed against humanity, you can forgive yourself. What you’ve done in the past doesn’t matter. The fact that you feel remorse means something.”

“Yeah, it means I’m miserable,” Ace scoffed. “All the fucking time.”

“Maybe right now,” Law said. “But it doesn’t have to be that way forever.”

Ace rolled his eyes. “People always say that,” he muttered.

“Because it’s _true,”_ Law countered. “I’m not saying it’s all going to be sunshine and rainbows from here on out. But it’s definitely possible to live a life you’re… generally happy with.”

Ace breathed out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “Are... _you_ happy with your life?”

“Not always,” Law answered without a second thought. “But I think that’s the case for everyone. I’m better off than I was before, and that’s why I’m still here.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. “And you know what?”

It took a moment for Ace to realize Law was expecting a response. His gaze flickered back to the surgeon before he asked, “What?”

“As angry as I was when I woke up here, as difficult as it was to put myself back together… I’m glad I botched it.”

Ace blinked. Failure didn’t seem like something to be celebrating, regardless of the task. “Really?”

“Really.” Law nodded. “I’ve had a lot of better days since then.”

Ace leaned back against the mattress. It was propped up enough that he was still sitting, but could rest his head while he stared back at Law. “You’re saying I should stay alive just ‘cause I might have some good days?” he asked.

“I’m not telling you what to do,” Law said. “I’m just sharing my experience. Giving you some things to think about. That’s all.”

Ace sighed. He had plenty of things to think about, that was for sure. None of them were especially positive up until that point. “No one else asked why I did it,” he told Law. “They don’t seem to care. They’re just trying to stop it from happening again.”

“They’re concerned about your physical safety,” Law explained, “That’s their job. The therapist would hear you out and help you work through it.” He paused, eyeing Ace carefully. “But in order for them to do that, you’ll have to talk about your feelings.”

Ace let out a sound that could only be described as a _humph._ If the restraints weren’t holding him back, he’d cross his arms. He hated the idea of some stranger psychoanalyzing him— he’d tried therapy in the past, but it had only ever resulted in more frustration.

“What if… what if I don’t regret what I did?” Ace asked.

Law raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t expect you to,” he said. “Not yet, anyway. It took me a long time to realize how bad I’d fucked up.” He pushed himself up out of his chair, standing by the side of the bed. “But for as long as you’re here, you can’t try again. So you might as well cooperate and get some help while you have the opportunity to do so.”

Ace sighed. “I guess,” he mumbled.

Law reached into the pockets of his coat, searching until he found one of his business cards. He rarely needed them, but he held onto them just in case. “I’m not a therapist, and I can’t clear you to leave. But if you’d like to talk during the rest of your stay, you can have someone page me.” He set the card down on the bedside table. “I work nights.”

Ace glanced over towards the card, but he didn’t say anything. Since he seemed to be finished with his part of the conversation, Law turned and headed for the door. However, he stopped before he opened it, his hand resting on the doorknob.

“You have a second chance,” he said. “Those don’t come along very often. Make the most of it.”

Ace watched as Law left the room, carefully pulling the door closed behind him.

Maybe he would.

**Author's Note:**

> i've never posted anything quite so? serious before? but this was a very interesting and cathartic exercise. let me know what you think <3
> 
> [tumblr](https://tellmewhatyouc.tumblr.com/)


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